Blond, Blue, and Bkind
by LaurieLover
Summary: Chapter 1 Hikari thinks about Takeru asking her out. Takari! Chapter 2 Sora thinks about Matt asking HER out. Sorato!
1. Blond, Blue, and Bkind

Well...I wasn't really planning on writing this. I dunno if it's that good. Like at all. But hey, it's worth a try...

A/N: Yeah, I know Hikari really has red eyes. But I figured if this were real life that would be kind of creepy, so I interpreted them as brown.

Disclaimer: Psshh, everyone's so materialistic these days. Anyways, if I owned digimon the original digidestined _never_ would've grown up, I miss them ,(

* * *

There were three B's, as Hikari liked to refer to them. Well, one of them started with a K, but that was beside the point. They were Blond, Blue, and BKindness.

Hikari had always wanted blonde hair. As a brunette, she supposed to be the serious, intellectually respected figure. Serious, intellectually respected figures aren't allowed to make jokes like everybody else -- they can't pretend they misheard something to be something innappropriate, they can't cheer purposely for the wrong team at halftime, they just can't do silly things like that -- it all brought them down to everyone else's level. Which would be fine, being on everybody else's level, if Hikari weren't quite so sharp as she was.

It wasn't that Hikari was boastful; she was incredibly modest, much more than she should be. It was just that no matter what she did, she was simply quicker than others. Had she been blond, it would've been easy to joke around, because that's what people expected. It would've been easy to be 'blond intelligent', because people don't expect that much from blonds anyway.

But it wasn't just how people acted around blonds. Blond hair was like angel's hair, soft and silky and shining in the sun. Brown hair in the sun just looked like...well, brown hair in the sun. Maybe a little lighter than in the shade.

And also, blonds really _do_ have more fun.

* * *

Hikari had always wanted blue eyes. Blue eyes were always so mystical, but so bright at the same time. Blue eyes wore their hearts on their sleeves; dark blue was angry, green-blue was tired, light blue was happy. But brown eyes? Brown eyes were brown eyes, all the time.

Blue eyes made you special; people noticed blue eyes. There's something so striking about them, they always stand out in a crowd. To get blue eyes, both parents need blue eyes. To get brown eyes, someone somewhere along that huge family tree had to have them, regardless of whether the parents had them or not.

But it wasn't just how people noticed blue eyes. Blue eyes were like angel's eyes, the colour of the sky, the colour of the ocean. Brown eyes were like everybody else's eyes, the colour of mud, the colour of dirt. Hikari had heard some people say chocolate brown -- but if her eyes were a chocolate colour, it would be dark chocolate, which Hikari doesn't like anyways.

And also, blue eyed people always look _great _in glasses.

* * *

Out of these three B's, there was one thing that Hikari prided herself on having; BKindness. No, she wasn't the most caring person in the world. Perhaps intuitiveness would suit her better than bkindness, assuming bkindness was actually a word. But she knew she had kindness to _some_ extent, and that was a start, right?

But then again, kind people were always so happy, and people were always so happy around kind people. Hikari wasn't always so happy, nor were people always so happy around her.

And then again, kind people don't feel guilty about little white lies -- no, only Hikari would feel guilty about making someone feel better.

And then again, kind people don't think in dull shades of gray. Kind people think in blacks and whites. This is kind, therefore it is right. This is cruel, therefore it is wrong. But Hikari didn't see blacks and whites. Hikari saw so much gray it was overwhelming -- it wasn't a wonder gray was her least favorite colour, but at the same time it wasn't strange either that rainy days were her favorite. They showed the world for what it really was, light gray and dark gray and medium gray. Rainy days were honest. They were cruel, but they were honest. This is cruel, therefore it is neither right nor wrong, because it is the truth.

No, Hikari was neither blond, nor blue, nor bkind.

Yet regardless of all this there was Takeru, asking her out, the epitome of blond and blue and bkindness all jumbled up together into one special, special person.

Takeru was blond, undoubtedly. Takeru had blue eyes, undoubtedly. And Takeru was the one person Hikari could honestly say, in tones that lacked any cruelty whatsoever, that Takeru was bkind, undoubtedly.

And there was Takeru, asking out Hikari, who was none of these things.

Hikari didn't deserve Takeru, undoubtedly.

She could never be as special as he was, undoubtedly.

But she sure as hell would try.


	2. HEL but together they're Heaven

These are odd sort of drabbles, I guess. Does it work? R&R!

Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon, Digital Monsters! (love how they say that waaaay to often)

* * *

The first thing Sora noticed about Matt was his hands.

They were musician hands; strong but gentle, heavy but fast.

They were masculine hands; aggressive and curious, but soft and understanding.

They were unique hands; emotional yet strict, resting yet never relaxing.

They were gorgeous hands; young yet mature, large yet not overwhelming.

The best part was, it was these gorgeous, unique, masculine musician hands now wrapped around Sora's own hands, fitting around them perfectly, lovingly.

But still, hands weren't enough.

* * *

The second thing Sora noticed about Matt were his eyes.

The perfectly rounded eyes with a slight pinch at each corner, like God decided to be a designer at the last moment.

The fluttering eyelashes a bit longer than usual, but not feminine looking in the least.

The deep, complicated cerulean blue of his eyes which changed according to his mood -- but even when he was happy and his eyes were a light, sparkling blue there was still an undertone of something that Sora could not describe but with the word _dark_, something that intrigued Sora beyond such words.

Sora could stare into his eyes for hours if she wanted to -- and at the moment, they were staring right back.

But still, eyes weren't enough.

* * *

The third thing Sora noticed about Matt were his lips.

They weren't pouty lips, his lips. They weren't the kind of lips you just want to kiss all better all the time.

They weren't puppy lips, his lips. They weren't the plumpish quivering lips that were undeniably cute and adorable and just _puppy_.

They weren't even luscious smooth sex-god lips, his lips. They weren't particularly shiny or lickey or really that seductive at all.

But they were perfect lips, his lips. And there just isn't a name for perfect that's, well, perfect. Nothing could describe in one name the passion in his lips, the passion and caring and secrets and laughter in the upturning of the very corners and the many, many types of kisses in those lips. Nothing could describe the promises in those lips that were nearing Sora's own ordinary, imperfect, promise-breaking lips.

Alone, hands were not enough.

Alone, eyes were not enough.

Alone, lips were not enough.

But together? Together was enough. Together was Matt, and Matt was enough.

Matt was more than enough.

* * *

Thanks for reading, did you like? Please review!


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